


Bigger Brother

by Bitter_Baristas



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap, Brotherly Love, Drinking, Protective Older Brothers, Rebellion, Smoking, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans, and protective younger brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9664031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitter_Baristas/pseuds/Bitter_Baristas
Summary: Underswap AUFor so long Papyrus had been his world. His day and night. Everything he did, he did to care for his baby brother, to ensure he had all he needed. And when Papyrus no longer needed him, that energy went towards the royal guard. Now what did he have?Sans gives up pursuing the royal guard and Papyrus realizes what Sans sacrificed for him when they were kids.





	

Sans' eyes were abnormally lackluster. The small skeleton let the cyan pinpricks of light extinguish as he sighed, lamenting the days happenings.

He rolled onto his stomach and watched the rivers foaming water from the grassy bank. He reached out and dipped his fingertips in the cold water, his eyes again closing. The waterfall created a white noise that helped him think. Echo flowers swayed gently in the breeze, murmuring overheard conversations, as the day waned. Sans should have been home by now. He should be making himself and Papyrus dinner; but after today's training session with Alphys he wanted solitude. He doubted Papyrus would miss his absence--if Sans didn’t interrupt his brothers nap when he arrived home the younger would not awaken.

Sans sighed again, mind whirling. Alphys was kind to take him under her wing, but after a year he understood. He would never be allowed on the royal guard. He was too small, too weak. She did not say such things to his face, but the way she edged his training away from combat to cooking spoke volumes.

Once he’d overheard a conversation between Papyrus and the warrior.

“He’s just not… you know.” Her voice was strained by guilt.

“I know, Alphys. But he loves training with you… maybe you can just do it to encourage him? He’s so happy doing it...”

They did not want to tell Sans what he was already aware of. He had one HP. He was small and cute, and no one wanted him on the battlefield. However, he theorized, it wouldn’t hurt as much if they had simply told him to his face. He supposed it was just easier to string him along, to let his dreams dangle hopelessly.

So, after walking to Alphys’s house as he’d done many times before, Sans told her he no longer wished to continue his training. She’d been speechless.

Well, he thought, if he couldn’t be on the royal guard he may as well put his energy to something else. What that was, he didn’t know yet.

The normally starry-eyed skeleton fished a beaten leather wallet from his pocket. Where an ID would go was a picture of him and his baby bones of a brother. Sans had a smile stretching across his face and his arms were full of a squirmy Papyrus, who even years ago wore almost exclusively orange.

Sans felt tears welling in his sockets, and allowed them to stain his cheeks. He’d raised Papyrus from a baby. Watched him grow until he towered over Sans. He had dressed him, fed him, tucked him into bed, kissed his scrapes… Yet somehow Papyrus had fallen into the role of caretaker. He grew faster physically and mentally. His brother drank and smoked, Sans did neither. His brother left the house and came back in the middle of the night, reeking of sex and honey. Sans knew he was innocent, perhaps frighteningly so, but he was the elder damnit!

He deserved respect. He could handle being told he wasn’t cut out for the royal guard, what he could not handle was being deceived and blatantly lied to. To be treated like a child was infuriating.

The skeleton stood, determined now to prove himself an adult. If he acted like a child, he would be treated as such, and vise versa.

Nodding to himself, he made his way to Snowdin.

The shops glowed with welcoming light and were warm. Sans let his hands stay in his pockets and relaxed his shoulders. He was not trying to join the guard, there was no need to keep his posture erect. He smiled pleasantly at the shopkeeper, but did not go out of his way to begin a conversation as he might have. Over friendliness was childish.

He grabbed a lighter, and at the register asked for a pack of cigarettes. The cashier blinked, confused, but obliged.

“Picking some up for your brother?”

Sans smiled ruefully, muttering, “something like that.”

He waited until he was a good distance from the shop before lighting a cigarette the way he’d seen Papyrus do many times before. A spark of light, inhale, cough. It took a few tries, but once he got over the initial roughness, it was smooth and pleasant. He didn’t have a throat to burn, no lungs to blacken with cancer. Why had he been angry with Papyrus when he’d caught him smoking with other kids behind a dumpster?

That memory brought more sadness, as he also recalled their snickers because Papyrus' older, shorter brother was chewing him out about what a nasty habit smoking was.

Sans flicked the ashy stub to the ground and stomped out the remaining embers. He lit another and aimlessly wandered the town. Papyrus was probably at Muffet’s bakery, flirting with the spider monster in his soft, lazy drawl, making her giggle and blush. Sans ground his teeth and made his way to a place he seldom went: Grillby’s.

He entered, glancing around to see if his brother was there. His apprehension lessened when he saw no orange hoodie. Sans took a seat at the bar and waited, swinging his feet.

A few minutes passed and he looked to see if any of the customers were being attended to.

“Good evening!” Sans jolted and barely caught himself from falling off his seat. The high, nasally voice belonged to the flame monster who had popped up from beneath the counter and was now leaning uncomfortably close. Sans could see his reflection in Grillby’s spiralled, hypnotic glasses. Sans smiled uneasily, rearing back slightly.

“What can I get you, cutie?”

Sans face heated and he knew he was blushing bright blue. Grillby smirked. “I thought my food was too greasy,” he winked.

Sans chuckled, silently cursing Papyrus. “Well, actually, I’m just here for a drink.”

“What’ll it be, a virgin Coke?”

Sans frowned, brow twitching in irritation. “Just bring me something alcoholic.”

Grillby tilted his head, smirk growing. “You got it, chief.”

He grabbed something from the shelf behind him and poured an amber liquid into a shallow glass with a flourish.

“Fireball, served neat.” He winked again, though Sans wasn’t sure why. “Anything else, half pint?”

He opened his mouth to say no, when a thought occurred to him. “Maybe some water.”

"Or course. I’ll come back to check up on you in a sec, cutie.” Grillby left him, smirking to himself.

Sans stared at the glass for a few moments before grabbing it. He sniffed it and grimaced. No turning back now. He tipped it back and sputtered around the first burning mouthful.

When the shock was gone he gulped down the rest. Panting, he downed the cinnamon flavor with water.

“Want some more?” Grillby’s voice was tinged with amusement.

What’s being drunk like?

“Just one…” Sans shrunk into himself sheepishly.

“Okay, cutie.” His fire reached out to wrap a tendril around Sans.

Sans managed to down three shots until the fog blossomed in his skull. Grillby really was handsome, he thought absentmindedly as he let the bartender serve him a fourth drink.

Distantly, he heard Grillby greet his brother. Mind to far gone to consider the consequences of his situation he laid his forehead to the cool counter.

“Bro?”

Sans stiffened and pressed his palms to his eye sockets. Ho took a few moments, then inhaled deeply to steady himself and faced his brother. “Hi, Papy.”

The taller frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting a drink.” Sans sounded irritated in his own, metaphorical, ears.

“Why didn’t you come home? I was worried; I’ve been looking for you.”

Sans was aware of how everyone had quieted, listening to their conversation. He straightened. “And you thought I’d be at Grillby’s?” Papyrus' face flushed orange.

“Well, you were.”

“Go ahead and get your honey, Papy, I think I’m going to head home now.”

Gravity hit him harder than he’d expected and he sagged unsteadily on his feet. Papyrus caught his arm and dragged him outside, shooting a warning glance back at Grillby.

Sans let himself be pulled home, wondering why he was rebelling against his younger brother.

The walk was silent, and Sans suddenly felt foolish with Papyrus' hand dwarfing his own. He yanked away from the protective grip, ignoring Papyrus' look of hurt.

When they arrived home they lingered awkwardly in the front room. Sans glanced towards the stairway, then to his brother. Papyrus watched him reproachfully, searching for what he wanted to say. He came up blank. Agitated, he reached for a cigarette. Letting it hang from his teeth he rummaged in his hoodie to a lighter. Sans dutifully handed him his. Surprise colored Papyrus' face. Sans shrugged and gave a lazy half smile, pulling out his own pack of cigarettes to shake them.

“Your older brother is a trouble maker.”

Papyrus' mouth hung slack, his unlit cigarette falling. Sans snorted and, for further affect, plucked his lighter from Papyrus' limp hand and lit his own. He sucked in and blew out slowly, enjoying Papyrus' flabbergasted face. He shrugged again and walked upstairs, internally sighing when Papyrus gave chase.

“Sans! Wait,”

Sans stopped, if only to show he was listening. “Is-- is something wrong, bro?”

He shook his head. “I think I’m just going to go bed, Papy.”

His brother said nothing and Sans closed his door behind him. He rubbed his face, flopping into his racecar bed, groaning into the mattress. He stayed motionless, letting the dizziness in his head clear. The world settled finally and he rolled off the bed, moving to grab a book. It was not textbook or child’s fable, like the many others cluttering the shelf, but a photo album. The plastic covered pages held the years of Papyrus' life. Laminated snapshots of growth spurts being marked on the kitchen doorway and numerous, random pictures from everyday life. As he flipped through the years he watched his brother grow all over again. He stopped at Christmas morning, Papyrus wearing his hoodie for the first time. In the photo he had Sans in a headlock and they were both grinning.

A blue tear splattered on the page.

Sans' breath hitched as more tears followed. For so long Papyrus had been his world. His day and night. Everything he did, he did to care for his baby brother, to ensure he had all he needed. And when Papyrus no longer needed him, that energy went towards the royal guard. Now… what did he have? He had a tear stained photo album, a novice skill set of cooking, and one HP. Sans hugged the book to his chest.

A hesitant knock interrupted his pity party. He frantically wiped the tears away and steeled himself.

“Come in.”

Papyrus shuffled in, shoulders hunched and expression bashful. “Do, you, uh, want a bedtime story?”

Sans refused to look his brother in the eye. “No, thank you.”

Papyrus deflated. He covered the hurt with an easy grin and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Then maybe we can just cuddle, bro?”

Sans eyes burned with a fresh wave of tears. He scooted towards the wall for Papyrus, who gladly accepted the room. “What’s that?”

Sans clutched the book to his chest before weakly holding it out. “It’s your baby book, I suppose.” Papyrus cocked a brow bone.

“I have a baby book?”

Sans frowned and clucked indignantly like a mother hen. “Of course silly, look.” He went through the memorable stories each picture held. “I took most of these myself. You were only going to be a baby once.” As he spoke he turned the pages, pausing on a photo of Papyrus in an orange one piece. A pacifier was between his teeth and apricot colored eyes were fixed on the space above the camera. Sans' finger lightly brushed the photo, a sorrowful smile twisting his mouth.

Papyrus was blushing heavily, thankful Sans didn’t keep the album on the living room coffee table. He was also deeply touched by his brothers sentiment.

“I don’t really remember most of this.” he admitted. Sans nodded knowingly.

“I don’t remember being a child, not at all. That’s why I made this for you… well it was more for me, really. I wanted to preserve every moment of your life when you were a baby bones. So I could always look back…” his voice became choked by unshed tears.

Papyrus' soul ached and he moved to hold Sans. “...Back to when I was taller.” Sans playfully smacked Papyrus' arm and they both laughed.

Papyrus snorted and pulled Sans to his side. “I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

Sans glared. “I raised you, mister. Gaster... created us, and left when you were still crawling. I took you to school, I worked to pay for our food, I made sure you got milk for your growing bones.”

Papyrus didn’t say anything.

“And then you grew up.” His voice wobbled. “You grew up and forgot how much I used to care for you. It used to be me reading to you, you know.” He slumped.

“I’m sorry, bro.” Papyrus' voice soft and heavy. Sans shifted and wrapped his arms around the cushy hoodie.

“It’s not your fault you got to grow up.”

Papyrus had so many questions, but asking them would not ease his brothers pain, so he pushed them away and returned the embrace fiercely.

For the first time he realized how much Sans had truly sacrificed when they were children; he realized how Sans hadn’t been able to be a child. Sans had not gone to school with Papyrus. He’d gone to work, then studied with the younger at the end of the day, pouring over the books and learning along with him. He worked at sentry posts to earn money for their food. Papyrus recalled vaguely being forced to drink milk every morning, an exasperated Sans explaining that it was good for growing bones.

He remembered asking why Sans didn’t have to drink it. His grip on Sans tightened and Papyrus' eye lights flickered out.

“You’re a growing skeleton, Papy, you need to drink milk more than me. Please, Papy, please drink it for me.”

Sans gave up his childhood to provide for his baby brother.

Papyrus could feel the weight of guilt encase his bones. He lazed on the couch while Sans worked his posts diligently, he dozed the day away while Sans brought home groceries and cooked dinner. While Papyrus had taken the more adult facade, it was his brother who was responsible for them. His tiny, bright eyed brother.

Sans acted like a perpetual child only by design. He was Gaster’s first ‘son’. Created rather than born. Papyrus' fist clenched. Sans probably woke up on a cold lab table as he was now, unable to grow up.

He was not privileged to grow taller, so he documented Papyrus' childhood. Watched on in pride and envy as his brother shot up and outgrew clothes. And eventually he let himself become the ‘little brother’. He held onto his childish things and his bedtime stories because when he should have been babied he was taking care of Papyrus.

Papyrus hadn’t noticed the tears dripping down his face.

Sans wiped them away with his thumbs and peered at him with concern. “Papy?”

Papyrus sobbed openly and caught Sans in a tight hug. “Sans, I’m so sorry.”

A small hand patted his back. “This hug is bone-crushing, bro.”

Papyrus laughed and reluctantly let go. Sans truly looked out for him, always doing what he knew would lift his brothers spirits.

“Sorry if I was ribbing you.”

Sans rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his mouth.

They settled on the bed, atmosphere lighter. “It’s late, maybe you should skip training tomorrow.”

Sans' smile fell and he wrung his hands in his lap. “I’m actually going to be skipping them all from now on. I quit.”

“What? Why?”

Sans laughed dryly. “I’m never going to get into the royal guard, I might as well do something better with my time.”

Papyrus couldn’t argue.

“...But I guess I could let Alphys keep me as a cooking student.”

Papyrus smiled and nuzzled Sans' face, despite protest. There was the Sans he knew.

The two shimmied under the covers, Papyrus making no effort to go to his own bed. Sans held onto Papyrus until sleep claimed him, his small body releasing the day's tension. Papyrus fondly watched Sans' peaceful face. He would be a better brother, he vowed. Sans would not be alone in his responsibility any longer.

Papyrus carefully set the photo album on the floor and laid a protective arm over his brother.


End file.
